Daughter of Phoebus
by Mercury Gray
Summary: Originally written for a Literacy assignment to imitate one author's style, an epic poem re writing the Homeric epic the Iliad in it's original style with a slight twist. Chapter 3 uploaded!
1. Daughter of the Sun

Before you read this, you may have the inclination to believe throughout  
the course of this story that Phaetis is a Mary Sue. I plead attempt at  
accuracy!

She was written in accordance with the seven ideal qualities of a Homeric  
age hero, which are as follows.Physical strength  
Physical beauty  
Friendship/ bond in times of stress  
Skill in deception  
Hospitality to strangers  
Wisdom in dealing with people  
Friendship and the guidance of a god (dess)So, without ado, on to the poem...Homeric imitation...thing!

* * *

From the north, from hilly Macedon came  
Phaetis, argive daughter of Apollo  
Born when her mother Sameis lay  
In the god's grove.Agamemnon accepted her spear, her sword,  
Took her oath to serve him  
With no doubts; her courage was well sung.Achilles looked her over, taking in  
The golden breastplate, shielding white breasts  
The helm of gold that crowned her head  
It's white horse hair plume  
Resplendent in the breeze."Agamenon Atreus' son,  
Never do I doubt your wisdom  
But fields of battle are not the woman's place.  
She is for bed and the home  
And I will not fight alongside one."Sable haired Phaetis saw his glances  
Would have none of his, though, and  
Pounded her spear in the dust."Achilles Silverfoot Thetis' son  
Great is my admiration for your skill  
But I do not take to boasting, and  
Neither does my father. Take me in open combat, fight me, spear to spear  
And if you defeat me, I shall go home to hilly Macedon  
To the palace my father built for me  
Furnished with beautiful works."  
Once more, she hit the ground with  
Her spear-the ash wood staff would never break  
Fashioned from trees from the sacred grove  
Where her mother conceived by the Olympian.  
Strong was her voice as Phaetis,  
Proud Apollo's daughter  
Challenged Thetis' son.  
Overconfident Achilles could not refuse a fight.She stripped off the golden helm  
Left the helmet the gods made  
In the hands of her squire  
Curly haired Matheon,  
Priest of her father's shrines  
Sworn not to take a woman in his bed  
Who had been yearsmates with  
Graceful Phaetis since they were but babes in arms,  
Let her hair fall down her back and  
Took to Achilles the first blow  
Made the son of Peleus lie in the dust-Achilles called for her  
To hit him harder; that blow was soft.  
She showed him no mercy-When he got up, she knocked him down  
Kept him face to the dirt, took no blows from Achilles-  
Her nimble feet were too quick.She cracked his head with that spear  
Sacred wood that never broke  
Dealt him a loss at a woman's hands  
Proved her might and worth to Achilles, Peleus' son  
Made him regret to doubt her strength.  
Never again did he show or let her see  
The lust he bore in his heart for  
Phaetis, Apollo's daughter.

* * *

Please review! It helps me, really it does! 


	2. Agamemnon's offer

Thank you to my two reviewers, Mcduquette and Roisin Dubh. I wanted to add  
that this assignment got me a 104% and a note from my teacher that she'd  
enjoyed it immensely, after the first 15 pages, even when the assignment  
was only supposed 3-5 pages. So to me, that's a great compliment.  
OH, and some of this chapter is taken directly from Homer; I apologize.  
--  
Achilles, Peleus's son returned from feasting to find his prize gone  
Cursed the son of Atreus when told  
The king of Argos had selfishly taken his trophy  
Briseis, jewel among the prizes found  
When the girl Cryseis was returned.  
So with an iron will he swore  
Not to return to battle, not to invoke the prayers to Ares and  
Argive Athena that warriors offer up in battle heat.  
  
Odysseus, clever with his words, came to  
Convince the son of Peleus to forget his oath,  
Come back to battle, leave his tent and fight.  
"Achilles, whom we of the Greeks need  
In this fight for Troy, I beg you.  
Agamemnon sees his error, offers you  
In reparation for his unthinking actions  
Seven brand new cauldrons, ten gold pieces  
Twenty bright kettles and twelve racehorses  
Each one worth his weight in gold  
Sons and daughters of the wind, prizewinners all  
Seven slave woman trained in the homely arts  
Especially beautiful as well, along with  
Briseus' daughter, whom he wrongfully stole, and  
Has not, he swears this on his honor, lain with her  
In love as men and women do upon this earth.  
And furthermore-this he also swears,  
May Zeus punish those whose oaths they do not hold true  
That when Troy lies in ruin you may choose, after the lovely Helen  
(Who is to be returned to Menelaus, his brother)  
Twenty of the finest women Troy may offer, and  
When you return to Argos in victory  
He will grant one of his daughters-Laodice,  
Chrysothemis, or Iphianassa, you may have your pick- to take for a bride,  
And with your choice will he also give  
An opulent dowry, fit for the son of a king,  
More than a father has ever given for a treasured daughter.  
Seven cities will he give you lordship over,  
You'll be treated as a king, with servants to bring your food,  
Make offerings to their lord as if you were a god  
Choice meat, the firstfruits of the fields, the oldest wine in all  
cellars."  
Thus did Odysseus Everwise lay down the offer of Agamemnon, King of Argos  
At the feet of Achilles the unyielding.  
  
Achilles sat and thought, gathering what Odysseus had said  
And gave the wily king of rocky Ithaca an answer.  
  
"Tell Agamemnon Atreus' son that I will not accept his gifts, will not take  
his offer.  
Give me back the lady Briseis, and that  
Will settle things between us, but will not  
take back the oath. Tell him  
I want none of his daughters; will not take the blood of  
Agamemnon to my bed for sons. The woman I would marry  
Will have none of me." Odysseus gave the son of Peleus  
A piercing look-for all his wisdom, the king of Ithacans could not  
understand.  
  
"Achilles, who is this woman, for she me must be a statue  
To not take kindly in her regard for  
The godlike son of a king. Tell me of this woman,  
Whom you would love but will have none of yours."  
  
"Tell her naught of this. Already does she hold me in contempt, scorns my  
glances as no woman should- this woman I hold in my heart as dear,  
The lady Phaetis, whom I hold in high regard  
Would be the woman for my wife, but  
She will not marry the son of a king-  
No less than a god will do  
For the haughty daughter of Apollo.  
Tell Agamemnon I refuse his gifts."  
And so Odysseus went forth from the tents of Achilles  
To tell Agamemnon of the warrior's terms.  
  
While the captains of the Daanans feasted  
Phaetis, daughter of the Sun  
Robed herself in beauty, wore  
A robe of finest linen, dyed in crimson  
A kingly gift from Athena at her birth-no man could refuse her while she  
wore it  
Tied about her slim waist  
A belt woven on the loom of the Owl Wise Athene  
With strings from the girdle of Aphrodite, the belt that charms living men  
and gods alike  
And the thread that weaves war in the tapestries of the Weaver Pallas  
Would call men to lust, for battle or for love  
When worn by Phaetis, Apollo's child.  
So went forth Phaetis, Argive Apollo's daughter  
To the tent of Agamemnon, Atreus' son  
  
Men in the camp watched the warrior daughter  
Fell helpless to Eros' arrow as her foot falls passed  
But none made move to say a word  
To haughty Phaetis, who would have none  
Of living men.  
  
When she, argive daughter of the Sun, approached the king of Argos  
Atreus' son, Nestor, Diomedes, Menelaus, Odysseus, Aias, Ajax, all looked  
in wonder on  
The lovely daughter of Phoebus Apollo,  
Peerless among the women in the camp of the Achaeans,  
Helen's rival, as she came forward to ask a question of her commander  
Agamemnon, whose name is highly praised.  
  
"Phaetis, Apollo's daughter, born of Sameis in hilly Macedonia,  
What occasion calls forward such loveliness to the tent of Agamemnon?  
What would you ask of Atreus' son, for he will gladly give it."  
  
"King of Argos, Agamemnon, whom I hold high in respect,  
I have come to ask for three cattle, the finest you have,  
To offer to my father, Ares and Athene who guard the warriors  
At their art, to ask for help for the Achaeans in their struggle for  
Helen, fairest of all women." Thus did Phaetis ask the king her boon.  
Clothed as she was, in cloth the gods wove, anointed in the balm of beauty  
Aphrodite gives, Agamemnon could not refuse.  
  
"Then they are given, fair daughter of Silverbow, and gratefully, for this  
am I sure  
The gods may not refuse the daughter of their kindred.  
Come, Phaetis, Goddess among women, sit and feast.  
There is victory to be had on the field tomorrow." Phaetis sat amid  
The company of heroes, and feasted, keeping all eyes to her in  
The cloth of gods, the lure of lust that no man can refuse.  
  
The captains bade her sit among them, brought her wine, the best to be had  
Tender meats, and fruits bourn in the orchards  
Of Illyria, whose fame is well known as the crop of gods and mortals alike.  
The men offered her lustrous pears, sweet oranges,  
The tangy apples that grow only in the gardens Nestalthis tends  
They have no peer save Aphrodite's crop.  
  
Night blackened Morpheus, the god whose realm is sleep and dreams  
Swept through the camp with the heavy lids of sleep  
Anointed brows with tiredness, sending warriors to dream  
Of victory, and fair woman won in war, and home's fine manors most of all.  
Aphrodite-trickster to men's souls, spied the feast,  
The lovely daughter of Apollo sitting with the men  
All of whom, with those eyes she sees all love with,  
Harbored desire for the lovely daughter of Phoebus.  
Beckoning forward Dionysious, offered him  
The love of little Rheatha, a shepherdess who scorned love's charms,  
If he would drive drunken thoughts into those commanders  
Mighty men whose hearts lie in wait to Love's command.  
Along with him she sent Eros, maker of lover's passions  
To drive ardor in their hearts to love the Sun's daughter  
Lovely Phaetis who rivals Helen.  
  
The god of the Vine and Eros, Aphrodite's son  
Crept down to the camp, wove such potions for the wine  
That no man or god to withstand,  
Anointed Eros' arrows with the deadly brew  
And fired them on the men, letting their hearts turn to lust.  
  
Lovely Phaetis, sitting amongst the men  
Saw the drunken stupor cloud their eyes  
Saw the wine awaken no things a man with his wits would say.  
  
Agamemnon Atreides, King of Argos, leaned forward on his couch  
Offered her an apple.  
"You've never eaten it's equal in all your years."  
She took it questioning, for she smelt wine on his breath,  
felt his warm hand at her side, knew that it was time to leave.  
  
Phaetis, sable haired daughter of Apollo,  
Rose to leave, letting the King of Argos' hand  
Fall limp on her seat, rose to thank her host.  
  
"I thank you for your hospitality,  
Atreides, whom I hold in high regard,  
But battle will yet be upon us tomorrow,  
And I have need of sleep. I bid you  
And your fine company good night." Giant Aias rose,  
Laughing with the company-Phaetis' courage crumbled.  
  
"The woman will need no sleep if she will but share my bed!"  
He boasted, looming over her, and she was afraid.  
Apollo heard his daughter's unspoken prayer, flew down  
And took Odysseus' form-the king of Ithacans had gone back to bed  
To tell Agamemnon news of his bargaining tomorrow-  
To talk some sense into the Achaean men.  
  
He strode forward, placed himself between Aias and his prey,  
Spoke with his canniness to help destroy such thoughts.  
  
"Good friend Aias, when would lying with a woman solve this problem?  
We all know that Troy's gates are not yet fallen, and  
Until the time when they lie splinted on the ground,  
Like a boxer who has lost a match and cannot get up again to fight  
We need every soldier we can get. Leave Phaetis be  
She is more use to us if she is not with child  
By the son of Telemon. Go back to your feasts-the wine has addled your  
heads!"  
Apollo as the son of Laertes looked at his daughter- bade her leave.  
She nodded, knowing at a glance the son of Zeus who sired her  
Was in the Greek camp that night. But the commanders  
Mighty men who obey no one's whim save their own  
Had other plans for Phaetis, jewel among women.  
Knocked Apollo out of their way, strode out into the night  
Yelling crude things after the woman as she walked away  
Then they gave chase, yells echoing through the night,  
And Phaetis, daughter of Apollo, ran like her aunt  
Artemis, who guides young women,  
Ran with zephyr, the west wind,  
Carrying her fleet feet through the camp-  
She could not go back to her own tent; she'd run the wrong way-  
Now she sought refuge in the tent of Achilles  
Mighty warrior among men, Zeus' favorite, whose advances she'd scorned  
On the day that they first met, when Phaetis  
Argive daughter of Apollo, had dealt him a loss at a woman's hands  
Made him lie in the dirt and regret questioning her skill  
Now she humbled herself at his feet.  
  
"Achilles Thetis' son, whom I hold high in regard  
Deep is the honor I hold for you. Know I that you  
Take great pains to avoid me, not wishing to heckle  
The daughter of Apollo, who you had doubts of that  
She made you recount for. I beg you,  
Save me from your drunkard commanders  
Aphrodite's mischief reeks in their tents,  
Drives their hearts to say things they should not.  
They will try and take the maiden daughter of the sun-  
But they know not what they do, and Aphrodite knows  
My Father, Phoebus Apollo, who drives the sun  
Will set death with his arrows to any man who loves me without his consent.  
She seeks to destroy the leaders of our fine Achean men!"  
Phaetis knelt at Achilles' feet, offering her pleas-  
In her belt-which Athena wove with the threads that write war in her  
tapestries,  
Strings from Aphrodite's golden girdle, which no man can refuse the lure of-  
And Achilles could not refuse such pleas for help.  
He gave her a cloak- the nights on Ilios' shore were chilly  
And sat with his brother at arms Patroclus,  
Whom all men admire, the strong son of Menoetius,  
The foster brother of Achilles-  
Fate had set a path for both to die on Troy's earth-  
Sat at the door with a strong shield, spears fashioned of ash, his  
breastplate,  
The star strewn armor of the Prince of Phtia  
Glowed in the moonlight of Artemis's chariot, riding among the stars.  
Both men got no sleep that night,  
Sat watch inside the tent flaps as the guardians  
To the daughter of the Sun, Phaetis, whom all men admire  
Beautiful and wise in war's deadly art.  
--  
Again, please...I'm not afraid to beg...Reviews? I know Phaetis was being a  
girly girl in this chapter...but who's to stand against Aias? He's huge! 


	3. Aprodite's plot

Big thanks to everybody who reviewed, especially those who said that it was  
okay for Phaetis to be a little bit of a girly girl.  
  
Roisin Dubh-Thank you very much for comment on my grade. I'm glad you think I got what I deserved.

Twins8791- I'm terribly sorry I kind of confused you, but I'm glad you  
thought it was that good.mducquette- I do what I can...it's a gift from god. And I'm flattered you  
think I should be up at the high table with the classics writers...really, I am! I give you, faithful reviewers and those few of you who have read it and didn't reivew- Chapter 3! Enjoy, but reader disgression is advised.

* * *

Aphrodite looked down from her perfumed bowers on Mount Olympus,  
Saw the bloody fields of Troy, nearly turned her head away  
So great the stink of battle, the bittersweet tang of spilled blood  
Looked on as Phaetis, winsome daughter of Apollo, sacrificed a cow to Ares,  
Athena and  
Her father, looked on as the smoke of burning meat,  
the waft of libations poured on the alter  
came past her sensitive nose.  
  
Beautiful Aphrodite, whom young women worship  
For good prospects in marriage, a husband who will not falter in the  
marriage bed  
Could not see why this girl did not offer wine and flowers to her,  
Patroness of young women, did not know  
Atheneaia stayed her hand, whispered the ideas out of Achilles' head  
When the woman asked for help,  
Could not understand what made Achilles grant her sanctuary in his tent  
Without taking the daughter of Apollo to his bed.  
Love never misses note in the eyes of Aphrodite, and she saw it in  
The iron willed heart of bronzed Achilles.  
Phaetis left the altars, left the meat of offerings still smoldering,  
And Argive Aphrodite, goddess who rules the hearts of men  
Gathering her scented robes, she flew to Olympian Zeus' council chamber  
She could feel that this woman could be trouble.  
  
"Father Zeus, All knowing, all seeing, I come to ask  
a favor on the part of troy. See that woman Phaetis?  
Why not punish her, Father Zeus, for she  
Knows not her place, knows not the courses of a wife, a housekeeper."  
Zeus laughed, shaking the broad heavens in his mirth.  
  
"Aphrodite, goddess who rules the hearts of men, the wiles of women,  
Not often is it I refuse you. But the Trojans need no help-  
Let Phaetis stay- for without one warrior the like of her,  
How is the game fair? Besides, you've hurt the girl enough-  
Let the daughter of my son Apollo go in peace to her battles."  
Golden haired Aphrodite stormed out  
Not many had seen the goddess of love in rage.  
  
Aphrodite kept her watch, looked on as Argive Phaetis  
Daughter of Apollo, whose aim is always true,  
Rushed into battle, sheathed her knife in Trojan blood.  
Her sword was like the river in a rage when the storm  
At the behest of Zeus, father of all whom reigns in Olympus, has swelled  
it's banks,  
Overflowing them crashing over rocky hillsides, never ceasing, never  
stopping,  
Cutting down any thing in its path with vicious fury-  
Any and all that opposed that daughter of Apollo Silverbow fell in the dust-  
Thus did the sword of Spearsinger Phaetis run through the ranks,  
Slaughter Trojans where they stood still in fear  
Of Argive Apollo's frenzied offspring, the Amazonian Macedon;  
Many men answered to her sword- Ethames, Young Rheseas  
And the four sons of Thome- all fell to Hades' dark gates at her hand.  
Then Phaetis, daughter of the Archer who Never Misses what He Hunts  
Drew out her bow, the golden curve that Artemis had strung  
Fashioned from the trees of Illyria, the same  
That made the goddess' bow strong  
The string never snapped, was fashioned of  
Artemis' hair, the long strands she lets hang free at hunt.  
  
Aphrodite could take no more, knew if she did nothing  
Her son by the Prince Anchises, a cousin of King Priam,  
Could come by grave hurts, deep pains not quick to heal  
At the arrows of Phaetis Silverbow's Daughter  
And went again to Zeus' halls to plead her case.  
  
"Father Zeus, all knowing, all seeing, whose hand never doubts,  
Here again do I beseech you, stay the hand of  
Young Phaetis. Let some arrow strike her down  
Before she kills my son, Aeneas, lets some harm come  
To the product of my flesh, my son by the Prince Anchises,  
Who now fights on the soil of Troy." Zeus stilled her words  
Would not hear her womanly babble.  
  
"Let her be; I can do nothing to Phaetis,  
Apollo's daughter. Cannot make her bowstring snap, her sword chip and  
shatter.  
Apollo would only help the Acheans then,  
For his daughter is precious to him, only girl born of his blood.  
I am bound by the river Styx, an oath I cannot break  
My son Apollo made me swear, when his daughter left for war  
To not let harm come to Phaetis by a god's hand.  
Let her be-see you any other women on the fields?  
Let your attentions be lavished on Helen-  
It is her fault this war started- is it not you who  
Promised Paris Alexandros her love, sent him to the chambers of the wife of  
his host  
The King of Sparta, and made that fool prince of Troy lie with her?  
Go away, silly woman, and leave the affairs of war  
To Athene and Ares, leave, and go meddle with men's hearts instead."  
Zeus Cloudgather dismissed Lovebringer  
And Argive Aphrodite conceded defeat,  
Went back to her perfumed bowers  
In agony, to watch her son suffer, doing nothing.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it-Review and tell me what you thought. 


End file.
